Mandoline sliced something other than zucchini today

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Today was Father’s Day, and I thought it would be a good occasion to put together a cohesive meal. Most of the time when I am making food, I am thinking in singular dishes or about how many vegetables I need to prepare. Since Kaia was born, the only times I’ve really prepared a cohesive menu are when we’ve had guests over. But I really do want to change that because I prefer it when dishes are supposed to go together. So today, I made kimchi soondubu jigae (Korean kimchi soft tofu soup) with pork ribs, japchae (Korean glass noodles with vegetables), bindaetteok (Korean kimchi mung bean pancakes), rice, and three different types of banchan: soy bean sprout salad, marinated spinach, and zucchini.

For the zucchini banchan, I decided to whip out the mandoline Chris got me during the pandemic. Honestly, I haven’t used it too many times because I am a little terrified of it. I have a mandoline section on my box grater, but I’d only ever used it a few times and didn’t really trust it (it seemed too dull, which would beg for more pressure, which is dangerous!).

The few times I’ve used the mandoline setting, I was very deliberate with each slice. I watched each cut go through. I was always determined to never get cut by it… Until today, when I finally got cut by it. I was talking to Chris. Kaia was making a ruckus nearby, and I was very clearly distracted. I kept slicing the zucchini until it got way too close to my fingers, and SLICE! A huge section of the side of my right thumb got cut off. The blood was literally getting everywhere. I was dripping blood and leaving small puddles on the counter and floor. It took almost an hour and endless tissue, gauze, and paper towels to stop the bleeding, along with applying pressure and ice. I’d never cut myself this deeply before.

Luckily, I don’t think I cut any nerve or tendon, but it’s been pretty uncomfortable. The few times I’ve knocked myself in that spot, it hurts like hell. I’ve been doing my best to not use my right thumb, which is obviously hard. But it’s so painful when something even taps it. I have a feeling this will be the worst kitchen wound I have had to date. My friend, who also cooks often, was marveling that this was just my first mandoline cut (it’s a VERY common kitchen injury!). She even educated me on “finger condoms” (today, I learned…) and how I may want to get some to protect myself from similar injuries in the future.

Next time, when I am brave enough to take out the mandoline again, I will not talk to anyone or have my child near me. I will need to be 120 percent focused. Wounds like these are not fun at all, and even typing this feels odd because I am trying to avoid using a thumb to type…

Two rainy Saturdays in a row going out

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Last Saturday and today mark two Saturdays in a row this summer where we’ve seen grey skies and rain. Today’s weather was far worse than last Saturday, though: while last Saturday, it was drizzly, a little more, and grey, it was still warm. Today, however, was much cooler (I actually heard people shivering on the street and complaining how cold it was while wearing hoodies!), and the rain seemed a bit harder and more steady. My friend remarked last week that he was surprised we even went out given the weather. I laughed and told him that was silly. A little drizzly wetness was not going to prevent us from going out on a Saturday. The mere thought seemed ridiculous. We were not going to die once rain water touched us!

But the thing is – that’s how a lot of people feel about the rain. And it’s sad when you think about it. Why are you going to let a little sprinkle keep you home bound for an entire day? Are we really that delicate as a species?! It’s like you’re just letting life pass you by because of some subpar weather, which just seems a bit pathetic unless you are in poor health. Last Saturday, we were in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. Today, we were in Ditmars, Queens. While in Ditmars, we went to a popular Greek restaurant that usually has a wait of anywhere from one to two hours. Given the rain, they had zero wait, so we were seated right away. People deciding not to be out today due to the rain benefited us, so I wasn’t going to complain about that. But just the thought that people change plans just based on a little rain really sat with me throughout the day.

I suppose this thought relates to how i’ve been thinking about spending my time more intentionally, and part of that means spending less time on my phone looking at things that don’t matter (ahem, scrolling Instagram or Facebook or Reddit endlessly and staying the hell off of TikTok), reading news that I actually do want to read, and not feeling compelled to respond to non-urgent text messages right away. I don’t want some stupid social media platform or my phone having control over my time and life. So why should anyone let a little bad weather control their life, as well? Go out, do what you wanted to do, see who you want to see, carry an umbrella, wear rain boots or a raincoat, and live your life, for god’s sake!

Struggling with the truth of what I see

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I met up with a friend for a catchup at a cafe near Kaia’s school this afternoon. We recently celebrated her upcoming birth with a baby shower. When we met up, she was noticeably tense. I know she hasn’t been sleeping well due to the baby moving around a lot, plus not being able to find a comfortable enough position, which is pretty common in this later stage of pregnancy. She also hasn’t been eating well, as she’s had pretty bad acid reflux, which has caused her to vomit several times. So now, she tries to eat small meals instead of any one big meal at a time.

She was confiding in me that she was feeling a lot of frustration with her dad and sister for pushing her to get married to “protect” herself given the pending birth of a baby. They were giving her grief for not doing enough to plan for her and the baby’s housing and protection in the event her relationship ended or god forbid, if her partner suddenly died from catastrophic causes. Her sister had also insinuated that she was making a lot of decisions and living her life by going along with whichever partner she was with or whomever she was close friends with at the time. In the same breath, she also honestly acknowledged that she’s really struggled with criticism and not taking it personally. Though she recognizes that people do often give critiques because they want to help you or know you can be better, she oftentimes internalizes it and sees it all as a personal attack.

I didn’t say much to any of this. I just asked her questions about the context, how these comments made her feel. I am sure some of the follow-up questions I asked would also reveal my own opinion on these topics even if I didn’t openly speak up about it out loud. But it was a difficult conversation because frankly, I agree with a lot of the points her family is making. These observations her family is making has context because they are patterns she’s exhibited her whole life, and no one would be able to see that better than those who have been around her this long; I’m included in that small group of people. But there’s no way to nicely tell someone that they change with the winds, that they culturally appropriate or adapt the views or interests of those around them so easily. Of course, it will all be met with defensiveness. I also know even without her saying it that she’s delicate and cannot handle feedback like this. People like her dad, sister, or I who have opinions like this are just being “assholes.”

So, I’m just trying to be a good friend and listen and not judge. It’s not like my opinion matters anyway because she’s never looked to me for advice. You kind of have to wait for people to crash and burn on their own for them to see how the decisions they’ve made will ultimately shape their lives. It’s a hard and awkward position to be in, though, because good friends always want to help. But like in so many situations, you can only help those who want your help. I know this from experience, and as I get older, I have to keep reminding myself that people never change because of other people telling them to have to; that desire to change has to come from within.

“Moving Up” to Pre-K ceremony

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Last week, Kaia’s school sent out a message to all families that a “Moving Up to Pre-K” ceremony and celebration would be happening today at school. It would include some speeches, a slideshow of the kids throughout the school year, a performance by the kids in Kaia’s 3K class, and then end with a lunch celebration with the families. Although I am familiar with preschool/Pre-K “graduations” (I myself had a preschool graduation), I didn’t realize that schools gave ceremonies for kids who were in 3K moving up to preschool. It could be a new thing — who the heck knows? It feels like a bit of a participation trophy, but I guess that could be argued for preschool, elementary, and middle school graduation, as well. All I know is that we were given about a week’s notice for this, and we were asked to contribute money for the lunch — what joy!

So Chris and I both came today. I had known that Kaia had been singing some mysterious Chinese song I didn’t recognize, and I suspected it was a “surprise” song for the performance today, so I didn’t press the teachers when they didn’t send me all the names of the Chinese songs Kaia was singing parts of at home. Our administrator gave a speech and showed a photo slideshow, followed by the main teacher of the class giving a speech (or, well, reading off a piece of paper and having zero eye contact with any of the audience), followed by two dances from the kids. One was an English song about growing up/moving to the next stage. The second dance was to a Chinese song called “Gan Xie Lao Shi” (“Thank you, teacher”). The English song and dance were really cute. The Chinese song and dance, however, totally made me tear up. I am not sure what it is about Chinese melodies or words, but this completely had me getting emotional and feeling like my baby was floating further away from me. It’s not like the Chinese song is expressing anything particularly more complex or deep than the English song. But there’s this line in the song once you translate it that says, “Thank you, teacher, for helping me grow up / Your cute smiling face will stay in my heart … You are a beautiful angel.” Everything always feels deeper and more emotional in other languages than English for me. I am not sure why. I also thought the same thing when I have seen texts translated from French or Japanese.

I still can’t believe my baby has just over a week left of 3K. Then, she has summer camp (at the same school), then it’s officially preschool in September. It’s like time just flew by so quickly. She grew these long limbs. She lost her baby fat and pudge. She can speak coherent sentences now that people other than Chris and I understand. She can use words like, “but,” “yesterday,” and “tomorrow” and know what she’s actually saying. My mom said to me on the phone the other day that I should try as much as I can to, “enjoy with her now… because soon, she will grow up and be like you… want to do her own thing.” She didn’t mean it in a mean or spiteful way; she said it in a very wistful, sad tone. My mom had it infinitely harder than me, as she managed and raised two kids, all in the midst of a demanding and demeaning mother-in-law and a pretty useless husband when it came to child-rearing and managing a household — all on top of a rigid full-time job that was fully in office. I don’t blame her for not being “there” for me as much growing up since she also worked full time. I’m lucky I can have quality time with Kaia and really enjoy our moments together. Sometimes, I still want to freeze time so I can just hold her sweet face in my hands and admire how beautiful and intelligent she is. In the slideshow, they did a photo juxtaposition of each kid the first week of 3K and then this last week — they’ve all grown and matured so much! It’s just so hard to believe it went by this quickly. I guess that’s what parenting is all about, isn’t it — watching your babies evolve into tiny humans and then big humans.

Potty training, Part II (overnight)

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Our original goal was that by the end of this summer (hopefully sooner), we’d have Kaia out of pull-ups overnight. Once we get her out of pull-ups overnight, Pookster will officially be 100 percent diaper free (because, yes, as the Oh Crap! training lady says, pull-ups are still diapers). Last summer, she got the peeing down pretty quickly with an accident here or there. The pooping took some time as expected, but she got it within a reasonable amount of time. After our Australia/China/Hong Kong trip late last year into this year, we stopped carrying around the little potty, so she knows she has to use the big potty (with a toddler seat on top). Day time training was relatively painless for us, especially when I see all the potty training horror stories in my parent groups. Night time training, while we attempted to do it the first week we did day time training, did not go well at all. I still remember that last August, I successfully got her to pee in the little potty overnight just once. And then, several hours later, she still wet the bed for her second nightly pee. With warm summer weather now, we thought it would be easier to try to clean her up and have her wear little shorts to bed to minimize dirty laundry.

Chris’s cousin had suggested that we begin overnight training by simply not sending her to bed in any pull-up. This way, she’d realize how sticky and uncomfortable it was, and that would urge her to pee in the potty. Well, we are on night three of consecutively going without any pull-up, and somehow, she seems to show zero desire to get out of bed to urinate at night. We know she’s wet the bed/herself when she wakes up crying for us, or if she walks all the way over to our bed and says, “I wet” (I still love and cannot get over the cuteness of how incorrect that sentence is. I am lightly dreading the day when she comes over and says, “I am wet” or “I’m wet.” It’s like the other night when I went out with a friend for the evening. I told her I’d be back when she was asleep. And she came over at 5am with a huge grin on her face and declared, “Mumma, you came back!” instead of a month or so ago when she said, “Mumma, you back!” I loved the evolution in the sentence and hated it all at the same time. My baby’s youth was slowly slipping away in front of my eyes…. and ears).

We shall see how this goes. But unfortunately, I have a feeling that the Oh Crap! training lady will have it right in the end; I’m probably going to have to go down the damn “guesstimating” route of trying to guess which two windows at night are when she is most likely to pee and drag her to the toilet. The fun that awaits!

Hot cross buns, take 2, results

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It looks like I did two things right that I got wrong last time: I made sure that I used instant yeast as instructed, and I also scalded my milk to prevent any weird growth deactivation in my yeast. But I probably did not spend enough time folding over my hot cross bun balls enough. The balls were already a bit misformed when I rolled them into balls. So when they rose a lot and expanded, they just… got bigger as the same misshapen balls. The second thing I also got wrong once again was the hot cross piping. I think my flour/water paste was too thick this time; last time it was too thin, ran too much over the buns, and then completely disappeared. This time, the crosses are very clear, but a bit too thick. I also cut slightly too big of a hole in my piping bag (I just used a Ziplock bag), which made my crosses thicker than I would have liked. So appearance wise, they still are not completely what I would have liked, but they are far, far better than the crappy “hot cross scones” that I made a couple months ago. When they came out of the oven and we ate one each, we both declared that they looked, smelled, tasted, and felt just like hot cross buns. So even though they are not perfect, they are many steps closer to my ideal homemade hot cross buns.

I might not try this again so soon after having made them twice, but I do want to try my hand at them at least once more this year, just to get the hang of shaping and piping better. That’s #alwayslearning for me here!

Hot cross buns, take 2

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Since I messed up the first iteration of hot cross buns I did around Easter time, I decided that I would follow up by trying to make them again this week. This time, I was ready with both my instant yeast and my pre-scalded milk. There’s no deterring me this time! The dough is currently right by my stove rising. I just checked and it’s already more than doubled in size, which is not what happened last time. A couple months ago when I did this, the dough probably only rose about 50 percent, which was already an indication to me that something was inhibiting the yeast from growing my dough to the full potential.

My friend asked me last week if I had tried making hot cross buns again given my mini disaster last time, and I told her I hadn’t yet. She gave me this look to basically keep me in check: “If I were you, I would have already done it to prove to that fucking dough that I could do it!” Good point. Time is of the essence, so fingers crossed that tomorrow morning, I’ll be able to make this work the right way this time!

An evening of burlesque at The Slipper Room

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A friend of mine has spent years and years raving about how much he loves burlesque shows and specifically, how he loves the Slipper Room in the Lower East Side for their burlesque. I have only seen caricatures or snippets of burlesque over the years, and I’d never been to a proper burlesque show in my life. But I figured, hey, I should do this at least once to see if I like it. I am living in the capital of entertainment and live performances/theater, so what better place than where I currently call home to go see this? I always think (and say) that if you live in New York City but do not take advantage of the live theater, entertainment, music scene, or the vast array of cuisines and restaurants, then why are you even living here to begin with? I decided to go last night with my friend to check this place out.

The venue was very cozy. After we checked in, we went into the main stage area to see a few seats that were reserved, plus mostly standing room. Unfortunately, my friend messed up the reservations, so while he intended on getting us reserved seats, we had to stand for about half the time. This ended up being fine in the end because he was keeping watch on the open seats, and since he’s a regular here, one of the guys manning the seats offered us a table right by the stage halfway through the show. The host of the evening, who my friend says is his favorite, was most definitely the highlight of the night. He made fun of a lot of people and things about the crowd (“an all white audience yet again? Oh, what a surprise!”), he offered for audience members to come up and do provocative or funny things, and he infused a lot of humor throughout. There were three main performers during our show who were rotating in their theme or portrayal. The third person, a female, definitely stood out with how flexible she was; I kept looking at her and wondering how people can actually contort their bodies in every which way without completely injuring themselves. I have more yoga goals now as a result of this. Predictably, there was a lot of teasing of nudity, which I personally do not get that excited about, but I can see how others find that to be an actual “tease.”

Now that I’ve gone once, I can mentally tick this off my list of types of live performances I have seen. But in all honesty, I definitely prefer live comedy, music, or actual theater (Broadway or off-off) far more than I liked this burlesque show.

Hidden gems of New York City: Forma Pasta Factory in Brooklyn

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Over ten years ago, some friends and I discovered a house-made, fresh pasta restaurant in the East Village called San Marzano which was famous for having all pasta dishes $10 and under. At the time (and now!), it seemed completely ridiculous — we wondered how the place made any money considering how cheap all the food was. I suppose that given the wine by the glass prices were higher than the pasta dishes that that’s probably where they made their money. But still, it just seemed like too good of a deal to be true. I also think about this when I think of pretty overrated and stuffy fresh pasta experiences I’ve had in New York City, at places that people often call “institutions” (I am looking straight at you, Marea). San Marzano eventually shut down and reopened, slightly increasing their prices, but it’s still been very cheap for fresh pasta. Overall, it’s pretty hard to find affordable or inexpensive fresh pasta served at restaurants in the city, so if you find a place, you want to hold onto it forever and keep going back to ensure they stay in business.

Today, we went to Forma Pasta Factory in Fort Greene for lunch. It’s a fast-casual pasta restaurant that has two locations, one in Fort Greene and one in Williamsburg. All the pasta dishes were $14. As part of the lunch special, if you wanted to add a glass of wine, it would just be $5 additional. We got two dishes, a mushroom linguine and a malfaldine scampi. Chris also got us a glass of pinot noir and a sauvignon blanc (from New Zealand!). The portions are just right. The pastas were really al dente and toothy. The sauces were light, very well flavored and seasoned, and borderline addictive! They even give you a big piece of freshly baked fluffy focaccia with your pasta (mmm, carbs on carbs), which they could easily charge for given how good it was. As I was eating fork after fork of these delicious pastas, I was just in shock over what a good deal all this was. It’s not like the rent in Fort Greene would be cheap. And to really add a couple cherries on top, they have this beautiful, enclosed outdoor seating area outside where we sat, AND both wines that Chris selected were delicious! It’s hard to go wrong with a New Zealand sauvignon blanc, but the pinor noir was very refreshing and in a strange way, almost creamy. Kaia enjoyed both pastas and also liked the chewiness of the mushrooms, too.

We ended our meal here with some freshly piped pistachio cannoli with really nutty pistachio ricotta. The service all around was really friendly. It didn’t seem to matter if it was the person who rang you up (it’s an order at the counter and pay type of place, then you get a number and they bring your food out), the people who were making pasta out in the open (all the kitchen is open to see!), the people clearing plates and tables, or the servers themselves, but everyone was really warm, friendly, and always asked if we needed anything or if they could help us in an additional way. They also gave Kaia some crayons to draw with, which was a cute touch.

In a time of high food prices, inflation, and when it seems like just breathing is expensive in the city, places like Forma Pasta Factory are very happy finds.

Yibin Fresh-Chili Beef Noodles (Shengjiao Niurou Mian, 生椒牛肉面)

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My understanding of regional Chinese cooking has grown exponentially since my college years, when I finally learned Mandarin Chinese, how to read and write (just enough) Chinese, and when I finally started exploring more of my own (well, half) culture in depth. The truth is that as most Chinese scholars will note, you can spend your entire life studying the various regional cuisines of China, and you will barely touch the surface of it. Even when you think you know everything there is to know, some town, some city, some person or family will shock you and show you something you never even knew existed. Reading about Chinese cuisine and the endless dishes and methods through the eyes of Fuchsia Dunlop also felt a bit life changing for me (I could read her writing about Chinese cuisine and culture until the end of time). As someone who identifies as half Cantonese, I still cannot believe all the things I am learning about Cantonese cuisine. For example, it wasn’t until about seven years ago when I learned that Chaozhou (or Teochew) cuisine is considered a branch of Cantonese cuisine, known for light, fresh flavors, and arguably being one of the first cultures of the world that started eating raw fish (as it has been made famous by the Japanese today).

When the Dipshit Administration announced a couple months ago that massive tariffs were going to hit a lot of our imported goods, I went into a slight panic and went onto Mala Market’s website to purchase a bunch of premium quality Sichuanese products. This included a family of regional Chinese black vinegars, various types of Sichuanese peppercorns, a premium aged Chinese soy sauce, and some alkaline (jian shui) dried noodles. The Mala Market website is amazing — it is so informative and well researched. They not only give you a thorough background on the products they sell and how they were produced, but they also share the history of the overall products (e.g. how was soy sauce first made? What’s the history behind black rice vinegar? How did different versions come about?), and also have a pretty legitimate recipes section that cheekily notes, ‘Proceed at your own risk’). Through their website, I started learning about other regional, city-specific dishes in Sichuan and decided to start trying the recipes out.

Today, I made Yibin fresh chili beef noodles from their site. Yibin is a prefecture-level city in the southeastern part of Sichuan province, about 260 kilometers away from Chengdu. It is known for being a historical source for salt, as well as having a large pepper mill. They also produce bai jiu, or a distilled hard liquor. The noodle dish has four main components: the wheat noodles (in this case, noodles that due to being produced in an alkaline lye water, are naturally colored yellow), the noodle sauce, the saucy minced beef topping, and the fresh accompaniments (freshly chopped cilantro and red peppers). Like many very delicious Sichuanese dishes, this really needs to be assembled to order and eaten immediately. So I got all the components ready and then tossed them in individual portions in a large bowl and served them for dinner. And it was so, so good. The hot and numbing feeling of the just ground Sichuanese peppercorns was super tingly and spicy. The noodles had a perfect al dente chewy texture. And the entire dish just brought me back to our Chengdu trip, where we ate extremely, extremely well. I love and miss the mian guans (noodle houses) that we visited and where we ate copious amounts of delicious food.

I might not be able to go back to Sichuan that quickly or easily, but I have all my Mala Market ingredients to take me there via my noodle bowl at home when I please now. I’m so happy I finally made a big purchase from them this year! Every penny was beyond worth it, even if the prices aren’t cheap. You get what you pay for!